Atlas Shrugged


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atlas-shrugged

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 Tell him to watch his water tanks. They'll freeze on him one of these nights. See if you can get him a new
ditcher. I don't like the looks of the one he's got. Check on his wiring system."
She looked at him for a moment. "Thanks, Ellis," she said.
He smiled and walked on. She watched him as he walked across the bridge, as he started up the long
rise toward his derricks.
"He thinks he owns the place, doesn't he?"
She turned, startled. Ben Nealy had approached her; his thumb was pointing at Ellis Wyatt.
"What place?"
"The railroad, Miss Taggart. Your railroad. Or the whole world maybe. That's what he thinks."
Ben Nealy was a bulky man with a soft, sullen face. His eyes were stubborn and blank. In die bluish light
of the snow, his skin had the tinge of butter.
"What does he keep hanging around here for?" he said. "As if nobody knew their business but him. The
snooty show-off. Who does he think he is?"
"God damn you," said Dagny evenly, not raising her voice.
Nealy could never know what had made her say it. But some part of him, in some way of his own, knew
it: the shocking thing to her was that he was not shocked. He said nothing.
"Let's go to your quarters," she said wearily, pointing to an old railway coach on a spur in the distance.
"Have somebody there to take notes."
"Now about those crossties, Miss Taggart," he said hastily as they started. "Mr. Coleman of your office
okayed them. He didn't say anything about too much bark. I don't see why you think they're—"
"I said you're going to replace them."
When she came out of the coach, exhausted by two hours of effort to be patient, to instruct, to
explain—she saw an automobile parked on the torn dirt road below, a black two-seater, sparkling and
new. A new car was an astonishing sight anywhere; one did not see them often.
She glanced around and gasped at the sight of the tall figure standing at the foot of the bridge. It was
Hank Rearden; she had not expected to find him in Colorado. He seemed absorbed in calculations,
pencil and notebook in hand. His clothes attracted attention, like his car and for the same reason; he
wore a simple trenchcoat and a hat with a slanting brim, but they were of such good quality, so flagrantly
expensive that they appeared ostentatious among the seedy garments of the crowds everywhere, the
more ostentatious because worn so naturally.
She noticed suddenly that she was running toward him; she had lost all trace of exhaustion. Then she
remembered that she had not seen him since the party. She stopped.
He saw her, he waved to her in a gesture of pleased, astonished greeting, and he walked forward to
meet her. He was smiling.

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